Loss
by Starsabre
Summary: Probe seems happy to everyone who meets him, but you can't help but wonder about his split personality. Rated T, just in case.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I wasn't always insane.

I was a normal mech, just like every other slummer to live in Iacon. Life was boring, I was about to enlist in the Autobot army just for the heck of it, just to spice up my life a little. It was a time when the war was pretty calm, everyone was going about their business. We didn't have the worry of a Decepticon attack hanging over our heads like a dark cloud every day.

It was a cool morning, I had gotten up early and was on my way to the Autobot headquarters to enlist. A day like any other.

That was when I found her.

**Author's Note:** So... it's kinda short, but that's okay. I hope Megatron's Blackfire doesn't mind if I use her terminology...?


	2. Discovery

**Discovery**

I was on my way to the Autobot headquarters, my life had been heading nowhere fast, and I decided I should probably do something with it. I was passing a dark alley and heard a groan. Now, where I come from, bots will hang out in dark alleys just like the one I had passed, and they'll make noises in the alley like somebot'd come along and beat'em up and mugged'em, and when a nice bot goes to see if they can help, they'll have walked right into a trap, and get mugged themselves.

But this moan was different, for one, it was definitely a femme's voice, and it was really quiet, like whoever it was had just been waking up after a beating. So, without knowing it, I made the most important desicion of my pitiful life. I peeked around the corner of the building, and lying in the trash like an angel was the most beautiful femme I'd ever seen, let alone be this close to. Her paint job was white, pure as innocence, and she had these gold accents on her arms, her head, and legs.

As I was just standing there, my mouth open like a complete slag-head, she started moving around and moaning again, so I got my butt in gear and walked over to her. Just as I got near her, she came online and looked right up at me with these huge blue optics, rendering me speechless and immobile once more.

She got herself into a kind of sitting position and turns her baby blues back on me with the most helpless look I've ever seen, and she says, "Where... Where am I?" Now, I was simply beside myself with amazement that an absolute angel such as this, obviously from a very rich and powerful family (judging by her paintjob), was talking to me like I wasn't a slummer. I attributed this to the fact that she was probably disoriented, and after she came back to her senses she would probably shun my company, like all the others. But she had asked me a question, so I felt obligated to give her the right answer.

"You, uh... you're in Southern Iacon, ma'am." I said, wincing at the harsh twang my voice had. I never had really noticed it before, but just being in her presence made me all too aware of my imperfections: the gaudy missmatched colors adorning my armor (every color of the visible spectrum was probably present), my strange accent, all the dents and cracks in my armor. But my worries were quickly forgotten as she held out her servo. An awkward second or two passed before I realized she needed help up, and I stepped forward and assissted her. "So, uh..." I was becoming painfully aware of the fact that I seemed to be incapable of saying a sentence that didn't contain the word "uh." "What's your name, ma'am?" I was trying to be as polite as I could, and I began to worry that maybe it was a little much.

The femme, who still hadn't let go of my servo, stood still for a few seconds, and I began to get worried for her. It shouldn't take longer than a second to remember your own name. She looked up at me, brows furrowed, and said, "I... I know... It's on the tip of my glossa..." I figured if she didn't know her name by then, it wasn't gonna come back any time soon. So I tried a different question.

"Um, uh, what are you doing in this part of Iacon...?" I was met with the same blank stare. I began to doubt if she even knew what planet we were on. "You know what? I think we should get you to a hospital." I thought it was a pity that such a pretty little femme as herself didn't even know her own name, and I wanted to help her as much as I could. She nodded.

"Yeah...A hospital..." I led her by the servo down the street toward the hospital, fully aware of all the others slummers watching us as we went.


	3. Medical Opinion

**Medical Opinion**

As we neared the hospital, which was close to the more upscale part of Iacon, there were more and more aristocrats and government officials around. Now, instead of getting confused or jealous looks from the passers-by, I was getting glares from those who obviously thought it was disgusting that I was in the company of this beautiful femme. At this point, though, I felt like I was just walking around on clouds, and I ignored their glances. Eventually, the femme looks up at me and says the first thing she's said in a while.

"So... What's your name? We don't both have to be nameless, right?" I blinked. I had forgotten to tell her my name!

"Oh, sorry, my name's Probe."

She grinned. "Nice to meet you, Probe. How much farther to the hospital?" In response to her question, I pointed down the street at a large gray building. I never really liked how the hospital looked, it was a massive, squat building that sprawled out over an area that three buildings could have covered. To me, it looked like a creature ready to pounce, but I never really liked hospitals, anyway.

The sliding doors parted with a whoosh, and we stepped into the quiet lobby. Walking up to the receptionist, I said, "I found this femme lying in an alley while I was walking, and she doesn't know who she is or what she was doing in the alley." The receptionist, whose nametag read "Telea," looked up at me like I was trying to pull something.

"Okay, sir, the doctor will be with you shortly," she replied tonelessly, and went back to filing her fingernails. I led the femme over to the waiting room, and we had a seat in those uncomfortable chairs they always have. I knew all the magazines would be utter scrap like they always are, so I didn't even bother looking them over. Instead, I turned my attention to the femme sitting next to me.

"So what do you remember? I mean, before I found you?" She looked down, thinking as hard as she could. I wondered if she was ever gonna get anywhere with this remembering stuff. To my surprise, however, she looked up.

"All I remember... is-is falling. I couldn't really see anything but lights everywhere, it must've been night. And I must've landed on my head, or something, because that's all I remember." I could see tears welling up in her optics. "I...I don't even know where I came from, or if I have any family, or anything. It's like all I have is just me, right here." I was about to tell her she had me too, but since we had just met, I was still nervous talking to her, and it only came out as: "Mmm hmm."

At that moment, some femme came walking through a door from where the examining rooms are, and says, "the doctor will see you now." I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but I didn't want to seem like a slag-head, so I held it back. The nurse led us back to a room and left us there. After another short wait, Ratchet walked into the room.

"Let me guess, you only bonded once, and you're not sure if she's spark-"

My optics widened and I could feel my face burning. "Oh, no, nothing like that. I-I found her in an alley and she doesn't remember her name or anything." I looked over at the femme and saw her blushing also.

Ratchet walked over to the femme. "Well, I can't do much in the way of restoring memories, but I'll give you a diagnostic..." He took out a little tool and swept a laser beam from her head to her feet. Turning the display toward him, he surveyed the results. "Hmm... well... That's odd..." I was really getting worried now, I was starting to become protective of the helpless femme and wanted to know what was wrong. So I asked.

"What's odd? Is it really bad?" Ratchet looked up at me, seeming slightly anooyed.

"Hold on, gimme a minute, I'm thinkin'." Impatiently, I waited as he mulled his findings over in his head. After about a minute, he said, "Well. It seems... from what this scan says... that this femme..."

"Yes?"

Another glare. "This femme... Is incapable of transformation." Over on the table, she gasped. I gasped also. I didn't think such a thing was possible, and it was the wierdest thing I'd ever heard.

"So... She just doesn't have an alternate mode yet, or...?" I asked, still in disbelief.

"She couldn't scan a vehicle if she wanted to." He answered my question. I looked over at her, and met her optics. She looked terrified. I turned back to Ratchet.

"Is there anything we can do?"

"I don't know. I've never seen anything like this, I've never even heard about it." He looked over at her and continued. "I may need you to stay at the hospital for a while, so we can... Well, so we can study you. And while you're here, we'll help you with your amnesia." She looked questioningly over at me. I knew she'd be safe here, so I nodded. She smiled gratefully.

The femme took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll stay."


	4. Therapy

**Therapy**

**Femme**

I woke up confused, but the memory of being escorted to the hospital returned quickly. I was in a hospital bed, hooked up to a machine which was reading my CPU usage and pulse rate. The doctor walked through the door. What was his name again? Oh yes, Ratchet. He walked over to the CPU/spark monitor and stared at it for a couple of nanoclicks, before grunting and writing something down. I had learned that he tended to grunt a lot, and it didn't always mean something.

"So, howdya sleep?" His gruff voice sliced through my thoughts, commanding my attention.

"Oh, fine," I replied. But then again, this was the only time I remember sleeping. I didn't have a lot to compare last night's sleep to.

He replied with a grunt. How unexpected. "Well, I think I have someone here who can help you with your amnesia." I didn't notice anyone walk into the room, and I was sure no one was in here besides the two of us. So I looked around the room, and nearly had spark failure when I noticed a large blue mech standing motionless and completely silent in the corner of the room. I found myself slightly freaked out by his presence. Just how long had he been there? Maybe he slipped in when Ratchet walked into the room…

He seemed to realize that I had noticed him, and he stepped forward, with precise, quick, almost stiff movements. "Greetings." His monotone voice caught me off guard, and from that point on, I disliked this mech. "Designation; Soundwave. Identification."

My mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like a suffocating Sharkticon. Eventually, I found my voice. "Um, I don't know my name…" The mech seemed to straighten up even more. If that was even possible.

"Soundwave is our tele-therapist. He helps patients to recover lost memories," Ratchet said. I nodded and looked up at Soundwave. This guy was a therapist? He looked like he needed therapy of his own, what with the emotionless gaze.

"CPU state; perfectly functional." I quickly realized he was talking about himself. So _that's _what Ratchet meant by tele-therapist. He could read minds. I found myself wondering what else he could do.

Ratchet stood up. "Well, I'm gonna leave you two alone to get started, but I'll be monitoring you, so don't worry." The potbellied doctor stood up, took another look at my CPU/spark monitor, and sauntered out of the room. I watched him leave, and when I looked back, Soundwave had taken a seat, and still had his optics focused on mine.

He said, "We will start with your last memory," and then my vision blacked out, and the bed and the hospital room disappeared. I was falling again, hurtling toward Cybertron. The city lights spun around me, and as I flipped end over end, I noticed something weird in the sky above me. Then I hit the ground and the memory ended. Soundwave's optics burned into me even from behind the visor, and I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. "So you fell through a spacebridge." It was a statement, not a question, and I nodded. That must've been what that weird thing in the sky was.

"Do you have memories of parental units?" I shook my head. The next thing I knew, I felt him digging through my CPU like an accountant looking for lost files, but he backed out soon enough. I was left with a strange sensation, almost like I was punch-drunk. "Previous data confirmed non-existent." He leaned forward toward me. "Concentrate on something. Anything. Imagine it forming in front of you."

I didn't see where he was going with this, but he was the therapist, so I did as I was told. I powered my optics down, and focused on a cube of energon, imagined it forming in front of me. To my surprise, I felt energy being pulled from my spark, making its way down my arms, to my hands, where it… fizzled out. I powered up my optics. Nothing. Maybe I was fooling myself, there really was no power. That had to be it.

Soundwave stood up blood red optics still locked on mine. "Thank you for your time." Turning in a military fashion, he marched out the door, pulling it shut behind him, but it didn't close all the way. From my position on the bed, I could hear him talking with Ratchet outside.

"Test is complete; subject proven negative for Dreamweaver."

"What? Frag, I was sure of it. It all adds up, came out of nowhere, can't transform, unusual amount of energy radiating from her spark… Primus, even the paintjob is similar to what we thought it'd be. You're absolutely sure she couldn't…?"

"Test results negative."

At this point, I had stopped listening. Dreamweaver. It sounded so familiar, but I couldn't place where I had heard it before. Maybe it was my name? It sounded right. I couldn't be sure, but I needed to start calling myself something. The door creaked open, interrupting my thoughts.

"Miss, is there somewhere you can stay? You're in fit enough of a condition to leave." Ratchet called from the doorway.

"Um, is there any way you could contact a Probe from… uh, Southern Iacon?" I asked, hoping I had gotten the city right.

Ratchet smiled. "Is that the mech who brought you here?" I nodded. "He hasn't left the lobby since he dropped you off yesterday. He's been driving the receptionists crazy. I'm sure they'd love it if you got him to leave." The whole time he was saying this, he was unhooking all the machinery from me.

Free of the wires, I stood up. "I'd be happy to take him off your hands." I smiled at the medic, and walked out of the hospital room, but the moment I stepped into the hall, I felt optics on me. I turned around, and there was Soundwave, optics locked on me as if he wished to burn me with them. I couldn't help wondering if he knew more about me than he let on. He stood still as a statue, and, unnerved, I made my way toward the lobby.

Probe was sleeping in the lobby when I got there, sprawled across four chairs. One leg and arm each were hanging off the chairs, and a magazine was tented over his optics. I stepped over to him, and gently shook his shoulder. "Probe? Probe, wake up." He twitched, and the magazine fell off his face.

"Wha-? Oh, hey! They let'cha go?" He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stood up. "So did they… you know, help ya remember anything?" His accent was unlike anything I'd ever heard, and it made me smile.

"Actually, yes," I replied. "Now I know my name. Dreamweaver." The name rolled off my glossa just right, and it was then that I became sure that my name was Dreamweaver.

Probe smiled, and his stomach growled. His smile jumped to an expression of shock. "Oh, mech. Well, I guess it's time for breakfast anyways. Come on, I know a joint where we can get the best food. Can't survive on energon alone, ya know!" His servo moved toward mine, but then stopped, as if he was going to grab my servo but thought better of it. I didn't see any reason for him to be shy, so I grabbed his servo and let him lead me out of the building.


	5. Ferrari's

**Author's Note: **The Transformers are the copyrighted property of Hasbro; however I own Probe and Dreamweaver.

**Ferrari's**

**Probe**

She took my servo, to my surprise, and I led her out of the hospital. I was really starting to get hungry, and I was sure she was too, so I decided on this one joint called Ferrari's. It was the best in the city, and I decided if you were gonna eat anywhere in the city for your first time, it should be there. Ferrari's was a little bitty restaurant on the corner of the block it was on, and there was a constant flow of customers going into and out of the restaurant, most of them taking their food to go. I preferred to sit at the little bar they had (there were no tables), and take my time eating. I never had anywhere to go, anyway, and Ferrari was always a good mech to have a conversation with.

We walked into Ferrari's, and I could see Dreamweaver smile out of the corner of my optic. She must've been feeling better after her stay at the hospital, because she was chattier now than when I had found her.

"Oooh, it smells good in here. Primus, I didn't realize how hungry I was."

It was still pretty early, so the place wasn't packed. We took our seats, and the cook yelled at Ferrari to get his aft in here so he could take our order. There were only two rooms in the place, and you could see the cook making your food from where you sat. I told you it was small.

Ferrari came through the doorway, wiping his servos with a towel. "Probe! You're here early!" He slung the towel over a shoulder and picked up a pad and pencil. "So, what'll it be, eh?"

I didn't even have to look at the menu anymore, I pretty much knew it by spark. "Just the usual." Dreamweaver was still deciding. You couldn't blame her, there were a lot of good choices.

Ferrari was about to give the cook my order, but I stopped him. "We're not done! Get back over here."

His surprised expression faded to one of pride as he realized that the pretty femme sitting next to me had come with me. "Ah, that's my boy, finally gotta femme, eh? And a pretty one, too. Bel lavoro!" He turned to Dreamweaver, pencil and pad at the ready. "What will you be having?"

Her optics were still locked on the menu, which hung on the far wall. "Um… I'll have a sandwich di uovo, and a cube of energon."

"Molto bene. It'll be right out!" Ferrari handed our order to the cook and gave us our drinks, then moved on to the next customers. Dreamweaver giggled, sipping on her energon.

"What?" I asked.

"That mech, Ferrari… he speaks funny. Where's he from?"

"Well, he's from the other side of the planet, can't remember for the life of me what his country's called. Don't ask'im 'bout it neither, he gets all patriotic and it drives me nuts."

"I see." We waited in silence for our food to come off the grill, while customers came in and out. "So I guess you come here often?" she asked. I nodded.

"All the time. Look! Here comes our food." I was starving by this time and the food was a welcome sight.

Ferrari laid the food in front of us with a flourish. "For the lovebirds!"

I felt my face growing hot and heard Dreamweaver giggle. I tried to explain, but the words all seemed to just stick in my throat. "Oh we're not… I mean, I just met her, we're only friends, acquaintances, really…"

This earned me a glance from Ferrari that said he didn't believe me, and I waited for him to move on to his waiting customers before I started eating. Dreamweaver began munching on her sandwich almost immediately, practically humming with delight.

"Oh this is delicious! I love it!" Her happiness rubbed off on me, and I quickly forgot my embarrassment. It didn't take us long to finish our food, and we waited for Ferrari to come back. When I tried to pay, he insisted that our meal was "on-a da house," and refused to take any credits from me. I couldn't leave without giving him anything, so after a lengthy argument, I got him to at least take a tip from me. He shot me a fake glare as we walked out the door, but smiled and waved at the last minute, saying, "Have a wahnderful day!"

We were holding hands again while walking down the road, and I remember thinking that this was starting to become a usual thing, when Dreamweaver asked "So, what'll we do now?"

This was a good question. I usually sat around my apartment watching TV and sleeping(unless I was at work), but this hardly seemed like something to do when I had company. Especially not when my company was female. I didn't usually go downtown, there wasn't much to do there, but it was a good place to walk around. And who knows, maybe I could buy her a small gift. I had already started leading her downtown, when her voice broke into my thoughts.

"What you said… about us just being friends, you know, when Ferrari called us lovebirds, is that… I mean, do you not want to be anything other than friends?" I couldn't help noticing how big and blue her optics were, how pure her armor colors were. And me, I had purple optics, marking me as an outcast, and as if that weren't enough, I was a triple-changer, so I was shunned by Autobots, Decepticons, Seekers, and Groundlings. Pretty much everyone. And this femme, this high-class, beautiful, perfect femme, seemed to not care about any of it, and liked me. I nearly fell over on the pavement and died out of pure shock.

"Wha- what?" I asked, then mentally facepalmed when I saw her crestfallen expression. "I mean… I would love to… but I didn't know if you would, so I didn't want to offend you. You know, in case you didn't like me." Breathing a sigh of relief, I thanked Primus for letting me say at least one thing correctly.

Swinging our hands as we walked, she smiled. I returned the expression while I led her toward the inner part of the city. The buildings began to get noticeably more well-kept, and I was the only Cybertronian with colored armor. I tried not to look at the faces of the high-class passerby, I knew they wouldn't be friendly.

"Oh, look how beautiful this is!" Dreamweaver held up a golden heart-shaped locket suspended from a chain, admiring it at optic level. Intricate swirls and symbols were carved into the metal, and a tiny clasp held the two halves of the heart together. Among the symbols was the Cybertronian word for "devoted love," centered on the back. Even though I was examining the locket as well, I could feel her optics flick up to my face and back down again. Trying to be discreet, I glanced at the price tag and inhaled sharply. _1,500 credits… Oh mech… _I decided that I wouldn't suggest that I could afford it. So I didn't.

"That looks pretty expensive." That's me, Dr. Smooth.

She turned the price tag so she could read it, and frowned. "Oh Primus, it is." She handed the locket back to the clerk, who set it in its display case while giving me a look, like I was a cad or something.

We had been looking around the shopping center for a while now, and Dreamweaver was having a good time, but I honestly was not. Shopping in an expensive place is not really at the top of the list of things I like. But it was getting late, and I could see her begin to yawn more. I decided to suggest that we go back to my place.

"You getting tired?" I asked.

"Mmm-hmm." She placed her head on my shoulder.

"Okay then." I reached down and grabbed her around the waist, then rocketed into the air. She squeaked and threw her arms around my shoulders, holding on for dear life. I smiled at her in what I hoped was a reassuring way, and to my relief, she smiled back. After a short flight, we landed by my apartment, which looked pitiful after just having been in the city.

"Whoo. Please warn me next time you do that." She took my servo once more and I led her to the door.


	6. Break In

**Break-in**

**Dreamweaver**

Probe led me into his apartment. The living room wasn't very large, and there was a small couch against the wall. His bedroom was smaller still.

"You sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch."

I didn't want to be a bother, so I insisted that I would be fine on the couch. He wouldn't hear any of it, however, and I soon became too tired to argue any more. I went into his room and closed the door. His bed was really comfortable, despite its small size. I was quickly asleep.

* * *

I don't remember what caused me to wake up, or what time it was, but I opened my optics and there was a mech standing over me. It wasn't Probe. I would've yelled for help, but I couldn't move. And then, warmth spread from my spark, down my right arm. I couldn't turn my head, but I could see the blue glow. The mech laughed, a low, hollow, mirthless sound that would have made me shiver had I not just recognized him: Soundwave! Apparently, the tele-therapist could do more than just read minds…

I was made to get out of bed. Slowly, deliberately, I moved to the door. I was absolutely terrified, not being able to do anything. I hit my palm against the door and it flew off its hinges, falling to the floor with a bang… I had no idea I had this kind of power. Out of the corner of my optic I saw Probe fall off the couch, then jump up. I prayed that he wouldn't call attention to himself, but some part of me knew that no divine intervention could help this mech.

"Dreamweaver?" _Slag!_ Quick as a flash, I had crossed the room and pinned him to the wall by his throat. _No! I don't want to do this! Please, Soundwave! _I could hear his toneless reply in my head. _There will be no witnesses. _The blue light crept down my arm once more; I could see the sparks this time, jumping from my arm and into the air. I tightened my grip on Probe's neck and there was a strong smell of something burning. He yelled and twitched, and I screamed. It took a while for me to realize that the scream had been audible. I screamed again, this time as high as I could. There was a loud _thump_ behind me, and I dropped Probe.

Shaking, I turned to face Soundwave. He had his servos pressed over his audio sensors and had fallen onto his knees. Now knowing about my powers, I conjured a blue orb to electrocute him, but he saw, got to his feet, and stumble to the door.

"I'll be back for you." Once he had gone, I collapsed, crying, next to the still form of Probe.

* * *

**Probe**

I had been sleeping, when there was this loud bang, and I fell off the couch. I got up as quick as I could, but it was only Dreamweaver. She looked strange, though. Like her optics were lit up, but she wasn't in 'em.

"Dreamweaver?" She moved faster than anyone I'd ever seen, and she pinned me up against the wall by my throat. I tried to ask her what she was doing, but the only sound I could make sounded like old machinery grinding to a halt. I was trying to pull myself up; she was holding me off the ground and I knew I wasn't getting enough energon to my CPU. It was then that I noticed the mech standing in the doorway to my room. He was staring straight at Dreamweaver. I had a feeling that if I shot this guy, something good would happen. I tried to get my gun up, but a pain like I had never felt before ran through my body. Blue sparks crawled over my optics. I was twitching and shaking; I knew I had about two seconds left before I died, but then there was a shrieking sound and it stopped. She let go of me and I fell to the floor. It was too much, I couldn't hang on.

* * *

I could feel moisture on my cheeks. _That's odd, _I thought. _Why would I be crying? _My optics weren't off, I realized, but everything was supremely blurry, and I had to work hard to bring everything back into focus. It was light outside, and I was lying on my stomach, far from the couch. I could see my doorway across the room. The door was off its hinges, but I couldn't remember how that had happened. It slowly occurred to me that Dreamweaver had been sleeping in my room the night before. Afraid that something had happened to her, I tried to speak.

"Dream…" I sounded like a sick cyber-toad. I heard a gasp from above me, and I was rolled over onto my back. Tear-filled blue optics hovered above my face, and I realized why my cheeks had been wet. I still didn't know why she was crying, though, so I decided to ask. "You're not hurt, are you? What happened?"

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, it wasn't me!" She was sobbing now, shaking uncontrollably.

"What happened?" I repeated, but she was still crying too hard to answer. I tried to use the wall to drag myself into a sitting position, but it was hard to move. I felt like I had gotten hammered drunk, then run a marathon after getting my lights knocked out by a bunch of thugs who knew what they were doing. Blah. "Look, Dream." I held out an arm and she curled up against my side. "I dunno what happened, but I know I'm fine." To tell the truth, I wasn't too sure about that, but that wasn't important. "I need to know if you're ok. Are you ok?" She nodded, and I brought my servo around to stroke her helm. This calmed her down a bit and I eventually managed to stand up with a lot of help from both her and the wall.

"Are you sure you're fine?" She asked. Being a mech, I nodded.

"Yeah, I'm sure." I stumbled over to the couch and plopped down. "I'm just a little sore, is all. So, what happened?" That had to be the third time, now.

"Um, well, we were attacked." She was acting kind of weird (even by my standards), wringing her servos and not looking me in the optics. "They… well, he came in through the window in your room and I ran in here and, uh… you fought him off." Her optics flicked up to my face for a split second, then went back down to her servos.

"I… I did?" I had the feeling that something was off about her story, but I was having trouble figuring out what it was, because I didn't remember anything from last night, and on top of that, I was beginning to feel dizzy. "Slag, whoever it was, they really did a number on me. It'll be a while before I can move my neck again." I rubbed my neck and felt indentations on the metal. "How big was this mech?"

"Pretty big," she replied, still not looking at me.

"Ok, define 'pretty big.'" I had gotten up and was walking to a wall mirror to check out my neck.

"Um, like, a full head taller than you. And then some."

"Slag." Looking in the mirror, I noticed that a servoprint had been scorched onto my neck. Taking a look at it, it seemed pretty small. I compared it to my servo. There was no way a mech taller than me would have a servo smaller than mine. Slowly, I turned to face Dreamweaver, suspicion creeping in at the edges of my thoughts. She had been so sweet, why would she do this? She must've seen the dangerous glint in my optics, because she backed away and seemed to know what I was thinking.

"It wasn't me, I swear, I can explain!"

"Give me your servo."

"It wasn't me, I promise!"

I grabbed a hold of her wrist and she whimpered and gave a half-hearted tug. I held her servo against mine… and sure enough, her servo was the same size as the servoprint on my neck.

"…Why?"

"It wasn't… Probe, you're bleeding!" Her optics widened, and I felt compelled to believe her, even though she had broken my trust.

"What?"

"You're bleeding all over the floor! Look!" I let go of her hand and looked down. Sure enough, there was a sizeable puddle beginning to form. Well, that could explain the dizziness. "We need to get you to the hospital!"

"Oooh, no, I think I'm fine, really, I don't need to go…"

"No, Probe, this is bad. Come on, let's go. Take my servo… take my servo Probe." The sight of the energon on the floor had made me exponentially woozier. The worst part was, I didn't know where I was bleeding from. Darkness was crawling in at the corners of my vision, and I was entertaining the idea of panicking. We must've taken about, oh, maybe three steps outside when I keeled over. Dreamweaver picked me up, and the more I stared at her, the more the small golden wings on her back seemed to grow larger, until they were big enough to fly with.

"How… how you doin' that?"

"It's magic. Want to see another trick?" I nodded. "Ok then. You have to stay awake to see it, though. Promise me you'll stay awake." I nodded again. Her wings were beating rhythmically above us. It was hypnotic, and it wasn't helping me stay awake. "Probe? Look here." I wrenched my optics away from her wings and looked at her face. A small glowing bird appeared in front of my face and hovered there, changing colors and chirping. "We're almost there. I can see it. Just a little longer." Her wings stopped beating and we soared lower.

"…You know what? I…I'm going to… just take a little nap…"

"No! No sleeping! Look, here we are." She landed in front of the ugly hospital. Her wings shrank down again and I was aware of 'bots on the street screaming.

"…Sorry… I really… need to sleep…"

Dreamweaver was yelling at the lady behind the receptionist's desk, and wasn't really paying attention to what I was saying. I was moved from her arms to a gurney, then to a bed…


End file.
